A World of Color
by MilleCrepe
Summary: Harry is brutalized because of Petunia's jealousy and spite. Forever blind, he must cope with his disability , but finds a light in a teacher, a friend, a lover, and a beautiful rare talent. When Harry arrives at Hogwarts, Dumbledore is shocked by his condition and his true nature is questioned as Harry becomes weary of his manipulations. Slash! H/D. Blind!Harry
1. Prologue

**__Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not get a single dime out of this, nothing, nada, zilch. **

**Summary: Haunted by her sister's beauty and talent, Petunia is driven to the edge with jealousy, only to find a reminder of her sister's greatness on her porch one morning. Harry is neglected by the people he calls family , especially Petunia who cannot seem to relinquish her hate and envy. One day, at a "open house" school event, Petunia is driven insane by the Harry's resemblance and she brutalizes him, leaving him blind forever. Unaware of Harry's disability, Dumbledore and the rest of Hogwart's staff find themselves a very different Harry Potter then they had expected.  
**

**Warning: Slash! Harry/Draco**

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_**Prologue**_

_**Godric's Hollow, October 31, 1981**_

Lily Potter gazed upon her beautiful baby boy. He was so small, fragile. Wispy black hair curled around the side of his round pale cheeks, long silk lashes rested over his closed eyelids, plump pink lips pouted softly with the sounds of a gentle breath. _Harry. Harry Potter_, _the son of Lily and James Potter._ Lily smiled at the thought. Everything seemed so perfect; she had married the love of her life, and had finally created her own family.

Vermillion hair brushed softly against the babe's soft white cheek causing the child to shift slightly at the touch. The boy, Harry, snorted at the ticklish sensation and his eyes fluttered open gently like eager butterfly wings. Emerald met emerald. A smile blossomed on the small pink lips and a peel of laughter left the petite vocal chords. The beautifully innocent sound was like a chime of silver bells, musical in every way. Lifting his small hand, Harry grabbed a small strip of red hair that tickled his face and pulled gently. The child was curious, very curious about his mother's silken locks, the ministrations caused her to pull the small bundle into her bosoms and snuggle the warmth. Lily nuzzled the soft fine black hair the rested gently on Harry's forehead. Time could have frozen and still Lily wouldn't have cared. Her world was right there in her arms, and honestly, she didn't care about the dangers that lurked outside the sandy white walls of her house, because to her, that single moment convinced her that life was perfect.

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_An earthquake. No. There couldn't be an earthquake in Godric's Hollow._ Lily Potter placed her no slumbering child into the white crib gently before leaving the nursery to find her husband.

The building shook as if an elephant had rammed itself against the exterior walls. Wooden beams fell, dusk scattered the air, ceilings cracked under the powerful pressure. The sound of glass falling echoed through the house as precious memories in black frames fell onto the rubble covered wooden floor. A loud rumble hummed in the chaotic air. Screams and shrieks of terror and panic sliced through the night sky like a hot knife would slit a tender awaiting throat. Maniacal cackles of joy and hysteria mixed with the cries of help and desperation.

Godric's Hollow was attacked.

"James" Lily gasped as she quickly comprehended the events transpiring around her. _No. This can't be happening. _She panicked. Her baby, her beautiful Harry. Not bothering to find her husband , Lily desperately stormed up the stairs into the undisturbed nursery. Lily scrambled to her sleeping son. Tears, bitter tears of despondency trailed down her with face, leaving a clear path on her dirty face. A warm heart beat hummed in her embrace, and soft peaceful breaths whispered in her arms.

"Harry," her voice came out as a whisper "Harry, baby. Mommy loves you."

Lily pulled her sons face out to look at the now wide away eyes that had been awoken by the silent trembling sobs the ricocheted through her breast.

"Mommy will always love you. I love you Harry, I always will"

Innocent green eyes stared deep into hers.

"I'm so sorry Harry. I'm so sorry"

"I will always love you."

"Harry."

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A bright green flash escaped the orifices of the cracked building, and the world fell silent.

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_**Little Surrey, Private Drive No.4, November 1, 1981**_

Cold mist glazed over the perfect lawns and repetitive houses of Private Dr. The air was still with the new breath of the sleeping sun and all life fell silent to the creeping dawn. The chaos of the day before was left unknown to the residents as what were they to worry about. Life was simple and the world was mundane, no miracles or wonders were known to these ignorant beings, no, only simplicity. A rather stubborn community in which outcasts and the unique were unwelcome, as none saw the through the haze of prejudice as they believed their world was perfect in every way. And only a small cry of musical bells seemed to disrupt this illusion, but only to phase it temporarily as what could a single child mean of any significance.

But how wrong they were. Soon their small peaceful world would be torn by a single child.

A child by the name of Harry Potter.

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.~O00o.H.o0oO~.

_**Little Surrey, Private Drive, July 31 1985**_

Silence, that's all that greeted the black morning. There was no ticking of clocks or chirping of crickets. No squeaking mice, sweeping winds, or night dancing trees were there to bless the small being that resided in a world of darkness. His "sanctuary" , how old it was for him to call it that for it was nothing pleasant to boast about, but in this seclusion of abysmal ink, he was never harmed. No. In his little black world he was safe, much safer than the dangerous outside world. He didn't belong there. They had made sure he understood his lack of acceptance as he was nothing but a dreadful burden. An unwelcome being. A FREAK. He was a freak beyond the small wooden door of his refuge. Yes the dust made him tickled his lungs and made him wheeze ; yes the small four by six feet interior was cramp and unkempt, but inside those walls he was safe.

Safe to be himself.

Safe to be Harry Potter.

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Brushing his small hands to the splintering wooden frame of his cupboard, little young Potter sighed. Sucking in his breath for the sigh had caused his intended to stop half way and turn into a set of painful coughs. Yanking his small slender fingers back, Harry clutched his chest as his lungs gave way to the fury of the violent wheezing. Not releasing his right hand from his tattered grey shirt, he lifted his other hand to his nose before breathing slowly in and out in a strained manner. Harry was quite used to this happening as he did live in the small compartment for nearly his entire life. He had been given a small faded-blue sleeping bag and a flat torn pillow to lie on. The ceiling slopped to accommodate the needs of the structure of the stairs above him, and when anyone walked on them, specks of wood fell on his small pale figure. Though his courters, though such a term would be too kind to truly describe the inadequate conditions, was really all he needed to survive but nothing more. He was not given lavish toys like his cousin Dudley, or ate hearty meals like the rest of the slumbering humans in the rest of the house. Harry was given a single meal every two days best and was required to manage all the domesticate chores of the house.

Finally able to calm his breath, Harry reached down from his sitting position to fumble through the thick blackness for the green crayon hidden under his sleeping bag. Utensil in one hand , he reached out his other hand to graze the wooden frame once more to find a row of smooth wax that clearly did not belong on the roughly chipped surface. Holding the side of the frame, Harry pushed the crayon hard on to the bottom of the long rows of wax. Harry gently touched his work on the frame as if fearing it would crack under his touch.

Five.

Five wax marks lined the frame.

He was finally five.

He had lived to be the age of five.

A beautiful smile blossomed on the feeble child's face, only to be drowned by the shadows. Honestly, he had no idea whether he would live to the age of five. Every day was torture, a torture he was now able to tune out only to a slight humming sound. He had been beaten, starved, overworked, and mentally abused. His _Aunt _Petunia and _Uncle _Vernon had found him on the porch one cold morning and ever since he had been condemned to a life of misery and abuse. They had never loved him; in fact they hated him. To them and everyone else in the world, he was a freak. Nothing more than a waste of space and money. Harry had always wondered where he had come from, but every time he asked they had told him his parents were freaks just like him. They had died in a car crash from being intoxicated with alcohol. Harry didn't believe it. It simply wasn't possible, and he knew they were lying but still he kept quiet and merely nodded. Oh, Harry knew all too well that their treatment to him was far from normal; in fact he knew it was abuse. The Dursely's hated every fiber of his being, though he had truly no idea as to why. He had never spoken out of hand, although Vernon had often accused him of so, nor had he ever rebelled. Such an enigma left the young boy very confused, but nevertheless, he was only five and there was not much he could do. His parents had "died" and no one would believe his accusations.

Sighing mentally Harry pulled his knees to his chest and rested his cold forehead on their hard surface.

Closing his eyes, Harry made a wish.

It was his birthday after all, and as far as he was concerned the stars owed him big time.

Smirking to himself, Harry clasped his hands together over his heart and whispered, "Happy 5th Birthday."

And the shadows consumed him into a deep sleep.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not get a single dime out of this, nothing, nada, zilch.**

**Summary: Haunted by her sister's beauty and talent, Petunia is driven to the edge with jealousy, only to find a reminder of her sister's greatness on her porch one morning. Harry is neglected by the people he calls family , especially Petunia who cannot seem to relinquish her hate and envy. One day, at a "open house" school event, Petunia is driven insane by the Harry's resemblance and she brutalizes him, leaving him blind forever. Unaware of Harry's disability, Dumbledore and the rest of Hogwart's staff find themselves a very different Harry Potter then they had expected.  
**

**Warning: Slash! Harry/Draco **

**WARNING! The following chapter mentions Pedophilia, if you are squeamish then don't read. **

**READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE BOTTOM!**

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**A World of Color**

**Ch.2 **

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_**November 1**__**st**__** 1987, Little Surrey , Private Dr. No.4**_

Autumn swept over England fluidly as all of the trees relinquished their green leaves, barring their branches for the third daughter of the great seasons. Flowers had shed their vanity for modest stems and shrubs. Nature stripped itself of its pride and arrogance for subtle reserve and simplicity. Soon England was decked in variations of brown, red , purple and orange ; as such colors were those of Autumn and it was only fit to honor the arrive of the great season by celebrating and exalting the insignias of Autumn's crest. Even the winds celebrated Autumn's return as they tossed fallen leaves in the air in reverence and excitement, as they seemed the most restless. Gales and gusts were impatient and impulsive to swirl and storm the streets and woods of England in merry dances and shouts. The winds howled in joy and laughed, briskly stripping the trees and shrubs in haste.

Crimson and tan leaves scattered the smoothly paved road of Private Dr. ; it was a quiet neighborhood there were no merry children running and frolicking about the streets on skates , involving in harmless chases, no little boys jumping in the mounds of fallen leaves, an no little girls sat by the sidewalk with colorfully dust covered hands, drawing with an assortment of large chalk sticks contained in large clear empty ice cream buckets. The street was silent, void of any noise of echo. The lack of sound seemed to give the atmosphere a hollow feel, as the lack of bell like laughter from children was absent, the chatter of neighboring women sipping tea and lemonade was not to be heard, the voices of men yelling over lawnmowers and rakes that brushed against the perfect lawns, collecting the dead leaves were neither here nor there, and during this unusual sate of calm, the air was restless, the silence was stirring. The rays of golden morning light broke the horizon; the restless were beginning to stir and the sleeping were awakening to the beckoning of the morning light and fresh clear dew. A new day, worthy of so many new opportunities and changes, a day worthy of growth and of evolution ; but none in that small quiet community would take the chances , none would look to the skies and wonder , none would step up to the challenge to accomplish the impossible even when it was merely sitting there, waiting for its companion. None would console its loneliness. No, the plebian of the world, of that neighborhood would wake to a day of repetition, of consistency and cycles. No new ideas or fates would blossom in that day, none. But a being awoke to greet the sun in its lonelines, a young human. A child. A single boy. **A Mr. Harry Potter. **Unbeknownst to this young child, the sun in its gratefulness of the sapling's companionship would grant the child a destiny, a fate, an opportunity worthy of the gods, worthy of being written within the mazes of stars. The gift of tomorrow would find itself a companion indeed, a worthy companion who would go great lengths to accomplish the impossible. To accomplish greatness.

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Petunia Dursley was a woman of patience , generosity, and kindness in her own eyes. Her self-worth was at an imbalance as she saw fit to raise her stool to match the thrones of the gods, but she in truth was not a very special woman. In beauty she was below even the average but she saw herself to be a woman any man would covet, though her body was skeletal and gaunt, skin was a sickening pasty white as blue veins protruded visibly underneath her skin and stood prominently on her hands, forearms, and ankle, her joints were knobby and seemed the type to suffer arthritis in old age, as for her face, her cheeks were shallow and her nose was pointed and resembled a carrot, while her lips thinned and paled in a line. The most unique feature upon her forsaken body was her long neck, as it was absurdly long and thin and her constant stretching of the thing was of no help to fix it as she stood in her garden peering over the white picket fence of her backyard, attempting to listen in on the small whispers of her neighbor. Petunia Dursley was not a beautiful woman and nor was she a kind one , no matter what she might say. The woman had a terrible habit of running the rumor mill even when the water ran into the kitchen and out toward the hall, her voice screeched as she called for her nephew to come , " BOY! Boy, come here, you ungrateful little thing."

Her voice clashed with the sound of her fist banging against the , now rattling cupboard door, as the gold metal slit at the top of the door trembled, either by the sound of the ghastly voice or by the sheer brutal pounding of its metal frame, one would never know. "Wake UP! You FREAK! Get up! My baby Dudley has yet to have breakfast! UP!" And with that she left the trembling door and strode back to the yard to resume her work on the rumor mill. But as the work of her stretching and ease dropping came back fruitless, she found her thoughts drifting to her godforsaken thing of a nephew. _Harry Potter_, she spat at the name, _Oh, dear sweet Lily had to go off and kill herself did she! Leaving me with that devil spawn of hers. Disgusting thing, he has her eyes though. Her emerald eyes. I hate that bitch! She's better off dead and feeding the worms then living on this planet. Oh, she and her freak of a husband, no, not like my hardworking husband, Vernon, no that freak, POTTER! That weird freakish ….and her son. Harry Potter, dropped on my porch like the daily milk delivery. That thing has her eyes. Her green eyes. Their hers. Hers. HERS. HERS! Why! Why did she…..why her! The Potter brat , useless ungrateful, I should have drowned him , but he's too big now. That THING doesn't deserve to live under my roof, with my beautiful family. My baby Dudley, oh the poor sweet dear, has to share a home with the little freak, I hope he isn't infected by that brat. My Baby, My poor BABY…_ Her thoughts followed the unsightly path until it was disrupted by the deep shouting voice of her husband, Vernon. _What did it do now? That good for nothing brat. Better let my Vernon have his way with the little freak. _Petunia smirked at the thought and trudged into the kitchen.

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"**FREAK**!"

The tenor voice echoed though the building, resonating off the tulip-wallpaper room. A portly , and extremely large beyond the point of healthy , stood in the small kitchen before the stove, sandwiching a small boy, by the looks of four though his true age was actually seven, between the large man-whale and stove that catered an assortment of hot pots and pans, leaving only a foot of distance between the child and man-whale.

"You **ungrateful** brat! Look at what you've done! Burned Dudley's bacon, did you now! You thought if the bacon was burnt then you could eat it. OUR FOOD IS TOO GOOD FOR YOUR LIKES! You FREAK! What's my Dudder's supposed to eat now! **BOY!** Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Vernon's face swelled an unhealthy purple, perhaps to high cholesterol, as he grabbed the boys jaw in a steel grip, ripping his head upward at the last command. A small washcloth was gripped between the child's swollen and burnt hands. Tears swelled out of pain in the green eyes as the poured over his eyelashes and under his glasses. The boy's black mop of hair was unruly but a strand was caught by the flames of the stove and singed a bit of the tip.

The green eyed boy opened his bloodied lips to apologize only to have his face clash with the meaty fist of his uncle as his body swung backward from the impact and his hands fell on top of the burning metal coils of the stove. The boy's head was thrown into a pan of hot bacon causing a shriek of pain to slice through the house. The obese man grabbed his nephew by the hair and dragged him down the hall as the child thrashed and withered in pain. "**BE QUIET YOU FREAK**! Get into your cupboard! No food for a week!" With that, the wooden door slammed into the boys burned face with a loud clamor .

Harry shriveled up into a small ball, knees pulled to meet his forehead, and arms wrapped around himself though his hands were unable to grip his sides due to the red burned skin now festering under the lack of attention. Silent wails of pain fell from his lips. For any other being, the treatment was inhumane and disgusting. Such abuse inflicted on a child was worthy of the cruelest of deaths, but for young Harry, it was of the mundane and ordinary. Though at the moment he was frustrated by the treatment as he had NOT burnt the bacon, it had been a lie his cousin had made to get him in trouble. And it worked. His hands were charred and blistered , skin was peeling from the swollen ends, while his left cheek was crimson and scorched from the frying pan. The pain was torturous, but Harry had learned to endure the throbbing of his blood to a light numbness in his core. Any person would know that such denial towards such harmful wounds was unhealthy in the sense that the child would need severe psychological treatment in old age. But not much choice was left for Harry, he had learned long ago that he had no place in the world. He did not belong. Long ago he would have fought for that sense of peace, that sense of security, but now, it was futile. He simply did not belong. His parents had abandoned him, he had no friends, no support. He did not belong. He had no place amongst the humans, but he found sanctuary in the gifts of the birds. He wished to fly. To leave and take off into the endless sky. To disappear in the blue. But most of all he wanted to drown himself in the melody, to fall into the hymns of the robin, sparrow, and warbler. Harry closed his eyes, and sang. He sang without words, without order, he sang the ballade of the fallen. The ballade of the dead, as no sound was heard from outside his black cage. For what sound was great enough to soothe the dead.

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Vernon, trudged his portly body to the bathroom. His large khaki slacks covered the bulge on his crotch. He had an obscene obsession , one that his wife did not know. One that no one knew. The brat! It was his fault, the reason why he had fallen to such sins. The sound of the bathroom lock clicked. The freak, a freak he maybe but even Vernon could not deny the beauty in the devil's body. _It's that FREAK's fault! He's the devil's spawn! Yes, that thing dragged me to this point of sinfulness. That small body. The round helpless eyes. That bitch is just asking for it. _He pulled his fly down and began to stroke the fat rod in his hands. _That little bitch. I 'll have him someday. I shove my cock up his arse and make him scream. Scream that beautiful voice of his. The look in his eyes this morning, wonderful. The fear in his face. _The sound of a desperate panting hung in the air, baited. A smile crept onto his face as he thought of cramming his thick prick down his nephew's throat. He could just hear the sobs, the beautiful sobs around his fat prick as he fucked the little freak's mouth. At that thought , a shout escaped Vernon's lips and a satisfied smile was left on his face as he cleaned himself off with tissue paper. The boy would be his someday. He'd make the bitch scream till his throat was raw from the stress of his prick. Someday. Soon. With the thought in mind, left the bathroom and headed to the front door where he kissed his wife good-bye and left for work. The cruel smile still on his pudgy fat whale-face.

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**Author's Note****: Ok….freaky pervert man ….I had to do it, don't hate me. I'm still not sure if I should have him rape Harry or not, I'm not considering actually writing it but just hinting at the abuse. Yes, poor Harry. But it was needed to be done. I like to develop my characters that's why I spent my time on this chapter to describe Vernon and Petunia. The detail and extent of the Dursley's abuse is crucial in molding my version of Harry. He won't be emo so don't worry about that. However, this Harry will not be canon so I'm sorry if that's what you expected. Harry is going to still face Voldie but I'm twisting the story to my liking….yes, I'm playing god in this story. He figths Voldie for a while , not for the light but for his own reasons. No Harry will not go dark….He's….GREY? **

**It's been over a month since I've updated, so thank you for your patience. If update Inferno more often because I like to think this one out. I hope you like this chapter! Read Review! Have any questions? I'll answer them ! Now scroll down and REVIEW!**

**OH! AND I NEED A BETA! BETA! MESSAGE ME IF YOUR INTERESTED! AND REVIEW PEOPLE!**

**To calileane: **** To answer your question. No, I will not have him fight Voldemort in the end….it's boring and the idea is obtuse. I hate it. And no he will not have Dumbledore guide him. In fact it will probably be the opposite. I personally can't have a good hearted Dumbledore in this story. It simply doesn't fit the plot that I'm working on. And no, this is NOT a dark story. Harry will not be a miserable child. Miserable life, not a miserable person. He will be blind, yes, but he will have an insight that overcomes that disadvantage. Thank you for the review! I appreciate your patience.**

**Next Up: Its a school day for HARRY! **


	3. Author's Note

I'M ALIVE! DON'T GIVE UP ON ME YET!

So I've been taking a break from writing…ahhh…who am I kidding. Lately I've been buried under wok so I haven't been able to update at all. So…ergh..my bad? Hahaha.

Anyway , what I want to do , even though I know I shouldn't, is start a new fic. ,I will still continue the ones I've written. I promise that every fic I write will be completed…eventually. Anyway, I want to put out a poll on a number of plots and which one I should write.

Plot 1

The GYPSY BOY

HP/TMR

Harry is a traveling gypsy. He sings and dances from town to town to make a living. He travels with a group of performers, The weasleys( performance name will be changed later). When they are traveling through a narrow mountain course the caravan is attacked by a band of robbers. Harry is taken and sold as a slave to a man with red jeweled eyes. King Marvolo. Riddle hears that the slave was a performer and decides he needs are relief from his stressful life and takes Harry as his slave. Little did he plan to fall in love with his little gypsy boy. But can Harry find it in him to overcome the conflicting feelings he has for his master?

Plot 2

A Pirates Life for Me

HP/TMR

He's dreamed of the sea every day since his father disappeared. Now he has the chance to finally leave the town he grew up in and embark on a high sea adventure. Harry turns 16 and finally joins a rowdy group of pirates to search for his father. Soon he learns that the seas are not as calm as they used to be but a storm is quickly brewing. Two pirate lords clash to claim position of King of the High Seas. Harry gets swept up in the misted of it all but what does this have to do with his missing father and why does the Pirate Lord Riddle always say the strangest thing to him whenever their alone?

Plot 3

Little Town , It's a Quite Village

HP/LM

Harry is just about your average village boy. Well, maybe not. Harry lives with his mother Lillian, the owner of the local bookshop, widowed after her husband died , killed by a savage beast in the woods. This town laided in a middle pasture between two neighboring Kingdoms, Malfoy and Snape. One day there is a cry from a horseman that rides into town , demanding every family must release one female member to King Malfoy as King Severus' son had denied the marriage contact between their families, and so King Severus offered King Lucius to build a harem of his own with the ladies from a village of the kingdom of Snape. Harry is horrified and disguises himself as a woman to take his mother's place. The King selects 8 women to join his harem, Harry being one of them. Can Harry survive the Cat's Den . And what will he do when he catches Lucius' attention?

Plot 4

Little Mermaid who?

HP/LM

Harry is the son of a greek fisherman. One day while he walks down to his favorite cove, he glimpse something men sacrifice their entire lives to seek. The beauty of a mermaid. Or should I say merman. Not any merman , King Triton, father of the sea. Though this was no coincidence, no, Triton had planned to meet his fair beauty for a while but he only watched his gem through the reflection of the ocean surface whenever, Harry would look at his reflection through the waters. Triton, or Lucius to those close to him, had fallen in love with Harry's wistful smiles and emerald green eyes but what he loved most was the boys voice. He sang with a passion, a talent that made the most luring of sirens drown themselves in shame. And so their journey stated there , in the cove.


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